


Raise You From Perdition

by ThisWasntTaken



Series: Perdition 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Domestic, Fluff, Hell, I promise, I'll make it better, M/M, Perdition, Returning Home, Sad Ending, but it's not over!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasntTaken/pseuds/ThisWasntTaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean get to know each other (and a little more) while Castiel puts Dean's soul back together, but then Dean gets back to Earth and...?</p><p>Or: the untold story of why it is Castiel acts the way he does around Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise You From Perdition

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely SuperWhoVengeTrekLock: http://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoAvengeTrekLock
> 
> I'm sorry for the fade to black. If you follow me on Tumblr (http://justshippin.tumblr.com/), you may have seen my days-long struggle of trying to write porn and not being able to.
> 
> Anything you recognize belongs to the CW. I'm going to be utilizing more dialogue in the future, since this story is about Castiel's backstory.

The first thing he thinks when he breaches Hell is that it’s hot. The next thing is that he really should have expected that, but he hasn’t even been out of Heaven since Jesus was around, let alone gone to Hell. They’ve been trying to get Dean out all along, because a righteous man torturing in Hell breaks the first Seal, but Dean has already tortured. He put up a good fight and lasted about thirty years before he broke, but as he broke, so did the first Seal. Castiel finds him readying himself for a new day.

When Dean notices Castiel, he doesn’t say anything, just looks terrified and confused. Castiel takes the initiative and says, “I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord.” He reaches down and tries to grab Dean, but Dean resists. “I am here to save you.”  
“No. You don’t know what I’ve done. I’m where I belong,” Dean says.  
“I know exactly what you’ve done, Dean, and I’m here to save you.”  
“I’ve tortured people. I like it!” Dean says, but Castiel just grabs his left arm and pulls.

Though he’d like to say it was a race, Castiel appears to be the only one with any sense of urgency about this. He’s the only one that tried to push harder, faster, because the fate of the world depended on it. No one else seemed to care, though, and no one seems to care now, as Castiel drags Dean kicking and screaming toward the surface. He can feel his wings singeing and he flies faster, pushes farther, tries to get as far away from that heat as possible, and then they’re out, and he opens his mouth and screams with all he can muster, “Dean Winchester is saved!”

Saved, yes, but Dean is in bad shape to say the least. Heaven is working on getting his body so Castiel can put that back together (made easier by Sam Winchester’s refusal to give Dean a “hunter’s funeral,” a salting and burning to prevent them from coming back as a vengeful spirit) but Castiel has plenty of work to do on his soul, in the meantime.

***

“Hey, cut it out!” Dean says.  
“It’s not exactly simple, Dean. It’s been a while since I’ve even _seen_ a human soul, let alone tried to fix one,” Castiel says.  
“Well, just leave it alone then. Just put me back with Sam.”  
“Souls aren’t meant to come back from Hell, Dean. With the amount of torture you endured, you wouldn’t last on Earth. Your soul would explode as soon as I let you go.”  
“And then what would happen?”  
“And then we’d gather you up and bring you back here, and I’d start over.”

***

Castiel puts a piece into place. “That’s not where that goes,” Dean says.  
“How can you be sure?” Castiel asks.  
“It doesn’t feel right. Take it out.” Castiel sighs and takes the piece out; he seems to be doing that more often than he’s putting pieces in.

***

“Hey, that tickles!” Dean says.  
“That word isn’t translating. I don’t understand what you mean,” Castiel says.  
“It tickles, you know? It’s kind of like itching, only it makes you laugh.”  
“It’s enjoyable, tickling?”  
“No, actually; I think the laughter is a nervous thing. Tickling sucks.”  
“Then I apologize.”

***

“So where are we?” Dean asks.  
“In a dimension unaffected by time and that the monsters of your world are not able to reach, do not know to try,” Castiel says.  
“What does that mean, in English?”  
“That when I put you back on Earth, it’ll be the same day that I rescued you. Sam is not waiting any longer for you than I spent trying to get to you.”

***

“Why even bring me back? I did awful things in Hell, and I liked doing them,” Dean says.  
“You are very important to the future of the world,” Castiel says.  
“What does that mean?”  
“I don’t know that I’m allowed to tell.”  
“Really, Cas? Who’s gonna know?”  
“Angels are connected to one another by telepathic transmissions. It’s very possible that everyone would know.”  
“That really puts a damper on sex then, huh?”  
“I wouldn’t know.”  
Dean laughs. “No. Of course you wouldn’t.”

***

“Your body has arrived,” Castiel says.  
“That, I can help you with. I’ve never seen a human soul, much less my own, but I know what humans look like,” Dean says.  
“I also have a general idea.”  
“Was that irony?” Dean asks, proud.  
“That word isn’t translating,” Castiel says, but Dean is pretty sure it’s more snarky than true.

***

“What are you doing?!” Dean asks.  
“Putting your body back together. Your soul is currently resisting further attempts at reparations.”  
“Dude, have you ever seen a human?”  
“It’s been a while.”  
“Did they grow legs out of their heads last time you checked?”  
“No,” Castiel says. “That would be an inefficient way to get around. Although I think legs are an inefficient way to get around.”  
“They’ve suited me just fine.”  
“That’s false. You have a car that you love dearly called the Impala.”  
“You can’t use cars for everything, though. You at least have to get to the car.”  
“Wings are much more efficient. It would have taken centuries for me to get you if I had had to walk.”  
“Just put the leg where it goes!” Dean punches Cas’ arm.

***

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel says.  
“What?” Dean asks, sitting up.  
“I apologize. I was watching you sleep.”  
“That’s a little weird,” Dean says. “What was it you said?”  
“I said you’re beautiful. You have a very beautiful soul.”  
“That’s stupid,” Dean says.  
“It’s not,” Castiel says with such sudden ferocity Dean is taken aback. “I have seen a lot of human souls in Heaven and I can tell you that yours is among the most beautiful. People who go straight to Heaven after they die don’t have souls as beautiful as the one you took to Hell.”  
“Thanks, Cas. You’re not too bad yourself.”

***

Until now, Dean’s torso had been lying chest-down. Dean flips it over to attach the legs and hisses at the scars on his chest.  
“I can fix that,” Castiel says, and lays two fingers on Dean’s physical chest. The scars disappear in an instant.  
“What about my bow-legs?” Dean laughs.  
“I like them very much,” Castiel says.  
“Why? They’re bow-legs.”  
“They make you different,” Castiel runs his finger along the leg Dean’s holding. “I like them very much.”  
“I guess they’re not so bad. They’ve gotten me around so far.”

***

“Watching me sleep again?” Dean asks.  
“There isn’t much else to do. I have been puzzling with these pieces of soul; are you sure there isn’t anywhere you have a space?” Castiel asks.  
“Not that I can feel,” Dean says. “What are you gonna do?”  
“I may need to lay you out under me so that I can get a better look at you.”  
Dean laughs. “You’ll need to _lay me out under you?_ ”  
“Yes, Dean. That’s what I just said isn’t it?”  
“Yes, you did. I’m fine with that, Cas. Sounds great.”

***

“I really don’t understand where these go,” Castiel says. “Would you mind lying down so that I can look at you more closely?” Dean shrugs and, when Castiel makes an examination table appear, lies down. At first, Castiel just looks closely. “I find it interesting that you felt the need to imagine clothes for your soul.”  
“This is all I’ve got right now, and we don’t just go around naked on Earth,” Dean says.  
“From what I understand, some humans do,” Castiel says and begins to push Dean’s shirt up.  
“Whoa, hey. Ask first.”  
“I apologize, Dean. In order to put you back together, may I take off your imaginary clothes?”  
“Yeah,” Dean says and lies back down. Castiel begins lifting Dean’s shirt, his fingers trailing on Dean’s skin, and Dean shivers.  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” Dean says. Castiel nods and continues, slipping Dean’s shirt off, then moving down to his pants. He fiddles with the button for a minute before just pulling them down, and Dean laughs.  
“Human garments are unnecessarily complex,” Castiel says, and moves up once more for Dean’s boxers. He rubs his fingers along them for a moment, checking for buttons or zippers or any other fastening device, and Dean shivers once more. Castiel pauses, but Dean dismisses him with another, “I’m fine,” so he continues, pulling the boxers down and off Dean.

When Dean is thoroughly divested, Castiel moves up again. He puts his hand in Dean’ hair and runs his fingers over the scalp, then moves down to the face, neck, shoulders. He makes his way down the right arm, back up the underside, over the chest, and down the underside of the left arm. When he comes back up the top of the left arm, he and Dean both jolt, Dean letting out a gasp.  
“I apologize. I touched the mark on your soul with my grace. I knew that, in angels, the effect was strong, but I hadn’t considered what may happen with you.”  
“It’s okay,” Dean says, Castiel hitching in concern a bit about how breathless he sounds. “You find anything yet?”  
“Not yet. Are you sure you’re okay to continue?”  
“I’m fine, Cas. I’ve definitely been through worse,” Dean says, and Castiel once again nods and continues. He lets his fingers slide down Dean’s chest to his hipbones, then up again to be sure. When he reaches his chest again, he traces down Dean’s side, and as he’s working his way down, Dean flinches away from him.  
“That’s where one of the pieces goes,” Castiel says and goes to get the three bits of Dean’s soul. He tries one, but Dean lets out something between a disgruntled sigh and a whimper, so he takes it out. The second piece fits, and Castiel seals it and begins his examination again, his hands going back down to Dean’s hipbones and down the outside of Dean’s thighs, up the tops. Dean’s legs fall open when Castiel tries to move his hands to the inside of Dean’s thighs and Castiel makes a noise of appreciation, a quick, “Thank you.”  
“I didn’t do it to make this easy for you,” Dean says.  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Of course you don’t. You have no idea what’s going on here.”  
“I know very well what’s going on here. I’m checking you for missing pieces,” Castiel says, his hands idly running up and down Dean’s inner-thigh while they speak.  
“With what your hands are doing right now, I couldn’t care less about missing pieces.”  
“I don’t understand,” Castiel repeats.  
“I know. Just keep going.”

Castiel drags his hands down between Dean’s thighs, and Dean lets out a breath, but Castiel doesn’t want to continue that conversation so he just keeps going. He gets down to Dean’s feet and takes one in both hands, running along the arch on the bottom, over the heel to the ankle, and then does the same with the other. He lifts Dean’s right leg and feels down the bottom side of it, to the curve of Dean’s ass, rounds it and comes back up the inside of Dean’s thigh. Dean lets out another breath that Castiel ignores, simply putting Dean’s leg down and lifting the other, again starting with the ankle. He comes around the swell of Dean’s ass, his fingers brushing into the cleft between Dean’s cheeks, and Dean gasps, grabs Castiel’s hands and yanks him down, kissing him soundly. Castiel tries to indulge him, lets him go on and even tries to kiss back, but Dean doesn’t seem intent on stopping and Castiel needs answers.  
“I don’t _understand_ ,” Castiel says. “Please don’t say you know that I don’t, Dean, because this feels important and I want to understand.”  
Dean kisses him again. “There’s really nothing to explain.”  
Castiel gets up, stands beside the table. “You’re lying! Why are you kissing me?”  
Dean sits up and looks at him for a moment. Finally, Dean asks, “Have you ever been kissed before?”  
“No. Why would I have been?” Castiel asks.  
“Angels don’t kiss?”  
“Not me! Why would they kiss me?”  
Dean grabs Castiel’s hands, pulls until Castiel dips his head into Dean’s reach, and kisses the angel again. “I can think of several reasons.”  
“I think that’s enough for today. We’ll sort out these other two pieces another time.”

***

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks.  
“Yes?” Castiel asks.  
“We good?”  
“Well, angels have made the only moral choice we can make and thus experience morality only in theory, but humans can make any number of choices and, yes, you are most certainly good.”  
Dean smiles, rolls his eyes fondly. “No, Cas. I meant ‘are you and I okay?’ You know, that stuff before; you’re not upset with me?”  
“No, Dean. I am not upset with you at all.”  
“Good.”

***

“Hey, look at that! My body is finished!” Dean says.  
“It is? I will seal the cracks, then. Are you certain you put everything in the right place?” Castiel asks.  
“Mostly,” Dean laughs. “I don’t have any legs coming out of my head.”  
“Well, I suppose that’s all you can ask in this life,” Castiel says, leaning over Dean’s kneeling figure to touch the body and close the wounds.  
Dean looks up at Castiel’s face, inches away or less, and leans in. This time, Castiel doesn’t break the kiss.

***

“I can remove the mark on your arm if you wish,” Castiel says.  
“Nah,” Dean says. “I’ll keep it to remember you by.”  
Castiel nods, flustered. “Very well, then.” 

***

“So, when we finish putting my soul back together, what happens?” Dean asks.  
“I suppose I put you back on Earth,” Castiel says.  
“And what about you?”  
“I hope to be assigned to Earth. Not many angels walk the earth, but it’s not a job many want, either; it’s possible that I could get it if I asked.”  
“Yeah? You could stop by sometimes, if you wanted.”  
“I believe I would.”

***

The last two pieces of Dean’s soul lie on the table for what would have been the Earth equivalent of six months with no one mentioning them. Both of them know that there will be no excuse to stay here when Dean is whole and, since Dean knows time isn’t even passing for Sam while he’s here, he doesn’t quite want to go yet. He decides that those bits of him can sit there for a little while longer.

***

“Dean?” Castiel asks.  
“Yeah?” Dean asks.  
“Perhaps I should finish checking you for the place that these pieces go.”  
“Oh,” Dean says. “Yeah, I guess.”  
“You’re upset.”  
“No, it’s nothing. I guess it’s just…peaceful here? It’s nice not having to worry about everything.”  
“If you need more time, I can simply find the places and not put them back yet,” Castiel says.  
“Yeah. We could do that.”  
Castiel motions to the table. “Lie down.”

“I’ve already checked most of your front. You should lie on your stomach so that I can search more efficiently,” Castiel says.  
“We’ve got all the time in the world. Why do you need to be efficient?” Dean asks, and he’s teasing, but Castiel says “Very well,” and gets on his knees between Dean’s legs, bends over Dean to reach his hands under the human. Dean’s eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything.  
“I’m going to need to remove your clothes again.” Dean forces out an “okay,” and Castiel begins to lift his shirt.

Castiel starts with Dean’s shoulders. He moves his hands up and in, to the back of Dean’s neck, then back out and down Dean’s back, tracing the bumps where his spine would be, then down to the curve of Dean’s ass, no space left between them now. Dean clears his throat but his voice is hoarse when he says, “I’ll just roll over, Cas.” Castiel nods and gets up, and Dean rolls over, expecting Castiel to stand like he had last time, to make this easier to bear, but Castiel nudges Dean’s legs apart and kneels between them again. He starts over at the neck.

Castiel finds one place at the middle of the small of Dean’s back, and he’s searching for the other when he notices. “You’re breathing heavily. Should I stop?” Castiel asks.  
“Please don’t,” Dean says, then, after a pause, “I was just thinking that it’s not fair that you get to have clothes on and I have to be naked.”  
“I don’t have to be inspected.” Dean can’t see it, the tilt of Cas’ head and the furrowing of his eyebrows, but he might as well.  
“Yeah, but I’m laying here all exposed and you’re wearing a _trench coat_ for Pete’s sake.”  
“I’m not wearing anything. This is a vessel, and it’s what you’re most comfortable seeing me as.”  
“Cas, you’re really ruining it,” Dean says, maneuvering so he can see Castiel.  
“Very well. Do you wish to undress me?” Castiel asks. “I find that undressing you was quite enjoyable for some reason.”  
Dean rights himself, kneeling in front of Castiel, their knees touching. “I would.”

Dean isn’t sure what the “vessel” did before he became Castiel’s favorite outfit, but he’s wearing a tie and a trench coat, which make him look simultaneously respectable and creepy. Dean grabs the tie, pulling it until Castiel relents and leans in, allowing Dean to kiss him, and Dean loosens the tie and pulls it away as he works his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. He slides the trench coat and the suit jacket off at once, then works on the buttons of Castiel’s shirt, savoring the gasp Castiel takes in as Dean’s fingers drag down his skin. When he gets to the last button, Castiel practically yanks the shirt off his body and puts Dean’s hands on himself.  
“Getting a little excited, are we?” Dean laughs, his forehead against Castiel’s.  
“Yes,” Castiel breathes. “I find myself unexplainably excited.”  
“It’s not unexplainable, Cas.”  
“I don’t understand,” Castiel says, allowing Dean to push him back and climb on top of him.  
Taking off Castiel’s belt, Dean says, “I’m sure your studies of humans have revealed the wonders of sex?”  
“Dean,” Castiel gasps, and it sounds good, wonderful, perfect, but the look on Castiel’s face says “STOP!”  
So Dean does. “Everything okay?”  
“No. We can’t…An angel and a human…You and I…We can’t. The repercussions would be…”  
“Cas, calm down. Full sentences. What’s going on?”  
“You’re too important. I’m too insignificant. I’m supposed to put you back together and put you back on Earth, not…not this. Michael would…I don’t know what Michael would do.”  
“So it could be nothing.”  
“That is extremely unlikely, given what you are to Michael.”  
“And what’s that?”  
“More than you should ever be to me, Dean. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t.”  
“Any way I can make you change your mind?”  
“Not right now, no. We will continue the search for your last emptiness another time. Since we still have another, I’ll put the piece we found a place for in.”  
Dean nods, notes the way Castiel says “not right now” instead of just “no,” takes a deep breath to cope with the feeling of the new bit of him that Castiel adds, considers the pros and cons of staying naked, decides to go for it. Castiel doesn’t protest.

***

After a while with no response from Castiel (though there’s no time here, Dean counts the time between waking up and having to sleep again as a “day,” and this has been two weeks), Dean puts his clothes on, if mostly because Castiel stares but absolutely nothing else and Dean is awkwardly aroused by it.

***

“What if you just keep the last piece?” Dean asks.  
“Of your soul? You would never be whole,” Castiel says.  
“That was the consequence I understood. Any others?”  
“It depends on what you mean, I suppose.”  
Dean picks up the last piece of his soul, puts it in Castiel’s hand, and closes the hand around it. “What if you just kept it? What if you put it in you instead?”  
“I would have to give you something in exchange, a part of myself to make up for it.”  
“And then?”  
“I’d always be able to find you, since you would have something easy to lock on to, a bit of me for me to find.”  
“Put it in then.”  
Castiel considers protesting, should protest, needs to protest, but he nods and complies, taking out a piece of his grace—the same size and shape as this piece of Dean—and putting a part of Dean in him in its place. He puts the bit of him into Dean’s hand and covers it with Dean’s other hand, reaching his grace out until Dean gasps and Castiel knows that he’s whole again.

Dean kisses him, yanking his coat and jacket off, pulling the tie away, fingers flying down the buttons of Castiel’s shirt, ripping a belt loop in his haste to get the belt off and unbutton the trousers, pulling them down with his boxers, and Castiel’s bare to Dean before he fully understands what’s happening. He pulls Dean back up and kisses him more softly, pushing his overshirt off his arms languidly and lifting his undershirt in a way that’s almost familiar at this point, kissing and licking down Dean’s chest like he’s wanted to for weeks now. He takes off Dean’s belt slowly, enjoying the sound the leather makes on denim, and unbuttons and removes Dean’s pants, leaving him in just his boxers. Dean tries to strip the rest of the way, but Castiel takes Dean’s hands into his own, “I like it this way.” Dean kisses him, pushing him towards the bed.

***

“So, I guess I’m all patched up and good to go,” Dean says, pulling his pants on.  
“I suppose so,” Castiel says. “Of course, if you wanted to stay longer, no one has to know.”  
“Don’t you have anywhere to be?”  
“There’s no time here. Anywhere I have to be will be there when we’re done.”  
“I guess it would be a good idea to recuperate a little before going back, now that I’m finally whole and all.”  
“It seems unusual, from what I’ve heard and seen of you, to be this reasonable.”  
Dean shrugs. “Nothing’s waiting on me. I can stay a while.”

***

“What does love mean to you, Dean?” Castiel asks.  
“What?” Dean asks.  
“As an angel, my only reference for love is that I have for my Father. I’ve been told it’s different for humans.”  
“Well, yeah. I guess so.”  
“So? What is love to you?”  
“I don’t know, Cas. I’m not real good with love,” Dean says. “I guess love is putting someone else and their needs before yourself. It’s wanting someone else to be happy even if you’re miserable. It’s being loyal and faithful even when the other person makes you so angry you could kill. I don’t know; I guess it’s just something you have to experience.” Castiel just stares at Dean. “What?”  
“Love has to be reciprocal, right?”  
“Well, not necessarily, but that’s a killer.”  
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Castiel says, looking Dean over.

***

“I know Sam can’t feel it, but I need to see him. I need to be sure he’s okay,” Dean says.  
Castiel nods. “I will put you back on Earth, then.”  
“It’s not that I don’t want to be here with you. I just—”  
“Sam is more important. I understand.”  
“He’s my brother, Cas. I have to—”  
“I understand, Dean.”  
“I don’t think you do!” Dean says.  
Castiel pauses. “What do you mean?”  
“I need you, Cas.”  
“I don’t understand.” Dean kisses him. “What are you doing?”  
Dean sighs. “How do I make you understand?”  
“Just tell me, Dean.”  
“I can’t!”  
“Why not?”  
“Because I love you and I’m bad with love!”  
“Oh,” Castiel says. “I love you, too, Dean.”  
“No, you don’t. You don’t know what love is.”  
“I put you and your needs above myself. I want you to go to Sam because it’ll make you happy even though I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. I will always be loyal to you. Call me and I’ll come as soon as I can, Dean.”  
“Cas, it’s more than that.”  
“But I’m trying! I’m learning. You’re teaching me so much I don’t think I was ever supposed to learn, but I don’t want to give it up. I don’t want to give you up.” Dean kisses him.

***

Castiel puts Dean in his grave in Pontiac, Illinois, assuring Dean that he’ll be able to get out without much difficulty. He goes to Heaven and asks for a job on Earth, becoming distressed when he’s told that Lilith is breaking Seals quickly and many angels are being assigned to Earth. He decides to check on Dean before getting to work; he was pretty sure things would be okay but, with the news from Heaven, he wants to know.

Dean has gotten out of his grave and is now in a gas station, putting supplies into a bag. He opens the cash register and starts taking the money, and Castiel approaches. The television switches on to white noise—Dean turns it off—the radio flips on, the TV turns back on, and Dean gets the wrong idea, pouring salt on the door.  
Castiel laughs. “Don’t worry, Dean. It’s me.” Dean looks up and around, but goes back to pouring the salt. “I’m glad to see you’re okay.” Dean looks distressed and covers his left ear, still pouring with his right hand. “The window will break soon. Get away from it.… Can’t you hear me? Don’t you understand?” Dean covers both ears and bends down. “Dean!” The windows begin to shatter and Dean falls to the floor. _He can’t understand me._

Castiel goes to his post, but soon a psychic begins to summon him. _I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle,_ keeps playing in his head and he can feel the pull. She’s not asking for a presence, though; she’s asking for a face, and it’ll be his true one.  
“I invoke, conjure, and command—” she says.  
“I am Castiel. You must stop. Turn back now or the consequences will be dire,” Castiel says.  
“Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel. I don’t scare that easy,” she says, and the she says something to those around her. She’s summoning him to her head and he can almost tell what’s going on around her, what’s being said, but not quite. “I conjure and command you, show me your face.”  
Castiel can feel his resistance weaken. “You must stop. I am Castiel. Please stop.”  
“I command you, show me your face. Show me your face now!” she says, and Castiel has no choice anymore. He goes to her and the flames of her candles are mimicked by her eyes as he scorches them out of their sockets. But Castiel notices that she’s with Dean.

That evening, Sam leaves to be with the demon and Castiel goes to Dean once more. Dean was fresh out of Hell and of course he wouldn’t understand Castiel so quickly—a lot else was happening. He’s always understood before so he’ll understand now.

Dean’s asleep, but it isn’t the first time he’s woken up to Castiel and he never minds, and Castiel can’t be away from his work for too long, so he decides to go for it. “You’re just as beautiful on Earth as you were before, Dean,” Castiel whispers. The television comes on and the radio begins to whine. Dean rolls out of bed and grabs a shotgun. He looks to Sam’s bed to find it empty and points his shotgun at the door. “Dean, it’s me. It’s Castiel. You have to understand me,” Castiel says. Dean covers his left ear and the mirror on the ceiling cracks. “Dean, please,” Castiel says. Dean drops the gun and covers both ears, kneeling to the floor as the mirror continues to crack. “You have to understand me,” Castiel says. Dean falls to the floor and glass begins to shatter. “Dean!” Castiel yells. The glass blows out and Bobby comes into the room.

Later, Castiel is vaguely aware that he’s being summoned again, much less specifically and much less powerfully than last time. He finishes his job before going to the place the ritual originated. The roof begins to shake as he approaches, this time inside Jimmy Novak. The doors fly open and the light bulbs burst as he walks under them. Bobby and—Castiel _thinks_ , hopes not—Dean open fire on him, but he continues.  
Dean pulls out a knife. “Who are you?”  
Castiel looks confused. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”  
“Yeah. Thanks for that,” Dean says, plunges the knife into Castiel’s chest.  
Castiel takes it out and drops it to the floor, fends off Bobby’s attack and puts him to sleep. “We need to talk. Alone.” Dean goes over to Bobby and checks his pulse. “Your friend’s alive.”

“Who are you?” Dean asks, and it cuts the same as before.  
“Castiel.”  
“Yeah, I figured that much. I mean _what_ are you?”  
“I’m an Angel of the Lord.”  
“Get the Hell out of here. There’s no such thing.”  
“This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith,” Castiel says, though he can’t remember Dean telling him he didn’t exist before. He shows Dean the shadow of his wings in hopes that he’ll remember.  
He doesn’t. Dean just says, “Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman’s eyes.”  
“I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be…overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that.”  
“You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods. “Buddy, next time, lower the volume.”  
Castiel, with a few more snide remarks from Dean, goes through the motions from here on. He tells Dean that Heaven has work for him, that he was saved because God commanded it, but all he wants is to leave. Dean is looking at him like _he_ is the abomination, not Dean’s demon-touched brother. Dean said he loved Castiel. Dean doesn’t remember.

**Author's Note:**

> It's written based on this prompt/headcanon: http://mer-who-lock-mis-ian.tumblr.com/post/62419062975/gracestiel-agarlandoffreshlycuttears
> 
> Please don't read that until you've read the fic, because it kind of spoils the ending.


End file.
